Shooting Star
by solitaryloner
Summary: If you wish upon a shooting star, your wish will come true. At least, that's what you always said. But I keep wishing, and you're not coming back...does this mean that you were a liar? I don't want to believe you were a liar. Yet, if what you tell me isn't true...I don't know anymore. I'm confused. All I want is for you to come back. Please...? MikuoXMiku. For SweetBeast's contest.
1. Chapter 1

_**Solitaryloner: **__This is an entry for SweetBeast's contest. The requirements for this contest are strangely broad…I'm actually feeling a little wary of joining something that gives me so much freedom in my writing, but that's cool, I guess. Basically, the only requirements are that there are no lemons, no bashing, and no KaiMei, DellNeru/Haku or LenkaRinto. Also, there has to be at least five chapters. So let's see what I can do with that._

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_When you wish upon a shooting star, do you really think your wish will come true…?_

His lips tilted up, into a mocking smile. No, of course they didn't come true – _don't be stupid, don't believe in fairy tales and lies _– if wishes came true so easily, then the world wouldn't be such a difficult place to survive in. _World peace. Flowers and happiness everywhere. Hah. Nothing more than the idyllic dreams of a young child, at peace within himself…_

But he was no longer a child, and as such, he no longer held any of those simple beliefs that differentiated a child from an adult. He was not an adult either; he was simply a youth who had seen so much that he was jaded to the world. To himself, even – for was there any reason for him to exist? Not really, not that he knew of, because he knew that no one would care even if he were to step off the edge of some building, and plummet all the way to his death.

_Maybe she would care. Maybe she is your shooting star. She always wanted you to hope._

He would have hoped – _for her, only for her _– if she didn't happen to be dead.

_Dead. _The word held so many different connotations. Dead to his mind, dead to his eyes, dead to his soul…she could be dead in so many ways. But she was, in the end, _dead_, and he couldn't bring her back to life. She wasn't dead because he was simply _ignoring _the fact that she existed; she was _dead. _In every sense of the word, she was gone, and she would never return. Reincarnation, another life, Heaven and Hell – _that's nothing, they're all lies, when someone leaves this world they're not going to come back. _He might have believed in a better world once, but now she was gone, his world was dark. He couldn't see anymore.

_Look, a shooting star…_her voice rang through his mind. He could recall the feeling of her head leaning against his chest, her high-pitched voice ringing with youthful happiness, a sweet melody to his ears. It was strange, how similarly different the two of them were – they shared the same green eyes, the same teal hair, the same last name – so many things about them were the same, yet they were as different as night and day. Where she was expectant and optimistic, he was calm and reserved. Where she hoped for better days, and wished upon shooting stars, he knew the world would never change, and wishes were lies made up to trick little children into believing in fairy tales. She was like a child. He was anything but so.

Yet, though he didn't believe in wishes, she was his shooting star. She was like a ray of light, a beacon of hope for him when he scarcely had reason to continue wishing. She understood him – she knew everything about him, what made him tick and what made him hate. She was the one, the _only one, _who could ever change him. Not even his friends, not even his family – no, only _her. _She knew him too well for him to ever push her away, no matter how their differences might irritate him at times. He knew that his life would be bleak without her, so she was the only person he didn't try to shove away. She was the only one he truly did appreciate, to the extent that he began _dreaming. _Something he thought he had long forgotten how to do. After all, he hadn't entertained such fleeting thoughts of fancy in a long while.

He didn't tell her that he dreamt and hoped – didn't tell her that she was starting to make him _wish _– until the day she died. And even then, when she was dying, he never once opened his mouth. _Even if I had, what would happen? Nothing – she's gone, she's leaving and she will never come back, there's no such thing as an Afterlife and even if she found out…she's not going to carry that knowledge with her to wherever she's going. There's no point._

But when she left, she took away a part of him with her. She took away his dreams and hopes, leaving behind nothing but bleakness and emptiness. _Shh…it'll be okay, trust me and just keep hoping, one day everything will get better…_he could feel the touch of her delicate hand upon his head, her fingers running through his hair. Or maybe those fingers were simply the wind, ruffling those same teal locks, making him hope, even if only momentarily. He hoped that she wouldn't be gone, though he knew it was a futile hope – he wished he could die, not so that he could join her, but rather so he didn't have to keep being lonely anymore.

He was no fool. He knew that, even if he should die, he wouldn't see her again. _Where do dead people go? _A question he had asked himself before, so many times that the question was now a never-ending loop in his head, going _Why Why Why Why Why_. Why did she die, why wasn't there an Afterlife, why didn't she take him with her? Questions that would be left unanswered, because _she _wasn't around to answer them anymore and that hurt.

_What would you do if one day, I'm gone? What if I ever leave your side? What would you…?_

She had asked him that question just days before it happened. Mere days before everything changed, and he was thrust into a cycle of hurt and hopelessness and wishing upon futile stars. His gaze drifted upwards, and the stars shone coldly down at him – stars, broken fragments of the Heavens, she told him before. A reminder to be good, so that they could reach the stars, to see the beauty of the world…his lips tilted up, a bitter smile. _Are you up there amongst the stars? Are your words true, or are they lies? I always knew that you spoke false – there is no such thing as another world, a better life – but you believed so intensely that the stars were bits of Heaven…are you in Heaven now, with the stars? Are you still my shooting star…?_

The night sky was cloudy, but the stars were still visible, spread out like a silver blanket, seeming to mock him the way he was mocking himself. He didn't want to leave the memories he had of her – memories were the _only_ thing he had left of her – but if he kept remembering, he would start hoping. And anything that caused him to hope would hurt, because hope reminded him of _her_, and he didn't want anything to do with that. He was tired, so tired. But he couldn't sleep at night, no matter how tired he was, because her voice no longer sang lullabies to him – the memory of her voice was a poor substitute for what was no longer there.

He missed her. He missed her so much that people pitied him – he saw the looks they cast him at school, wondering when he would break down. He pretended that he didn't care, that he didn't require the shows of sympathy – in truth he really didn't require their pity. He didn't need any of them, didn't need their comfort or their sadness on his behalf.

The only thing he needed was her. All he wanted was for her to come back – but that wasn't going to happen. She was dead to him. She was dead to herself, to everyone…she was lying in the ground, her eyes closed, worms burrowing into cold flesh – a body that would never speak or laugh or look at him with shining eyes, ever again. And she left him behind. He knew that it wasn't selfishness – he knew that she hadn't wanted to die, someone like her would never kill herself, no matter how miserable they happened to be – but if she was going to leave, then why hadn't she taken him along with her? She was his star, his whole world.

But she was gone now.

He looked down at the ground, kneeling before the simple headstone. His fingers reached out, knuckles brushing gently against the inscription on the granite – just over two months old, and hints of greenery were already sprouting up around the grave. Another drop of water hit his nose, but he ignored it. _Let it rain. Maybe it'll manage to wash all the sorrows away. _His fingers, still pressed against the headstone, were wet – rain rolled down the edge of the stone, staining his fingers. It seemed like even the sky was crying. Crying for what was lost.

_If only I had gone with her when she went to get that birthday cake…_it was meant to be a surprise for him – a surprise he was more than aware of, she had never been particularly good at keeping secrets – and if he had insisted on going out with her, maybe she would have noticed the car. Maybe she would have jumped back onto the pavement in time. Maybe the car wouldn't have hit her, maybe the cake wouldn't have smashed into smithereens, maybe she would still be alive…he swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat at the thought. Maybe it was all his fault – though he knew it wasn't, it felt like it was. He should have…

_If I wish upon a shooting star, will she come back to me…?_

There was more rain, dropping gently to the ground, landing in his hair, all over his body, almost as if it was trying to wash away his guilt. The flowers on the grave, bright against the darkness of the night – she loved the colour pink, but the pink flowers seemed grossly cheerful in light of the current situation – suddenly made him crack. Water of a different kind started to trail slowly down his cheeks, mingling with the ever-increasing rain. His very first instinct was to rub them away as furiously as he could – tears were a sign of weakness, and he never wanted to seem weak – but as he raised his hand, he stopped. Slowly, the hand dropped. _She would comfort me when I was sad…she would never have let me cry alone._

She was the only one who ever saw him cry, the only one whom he was comfortable enough around to let his guard down. And that wouldn't change. She was here – she was _here _– and he wouldn't let anything change. Even if she was gone now, she would still be the only one who ever saw him cry. Because she was his star, she was different from others – he couldn't let go of the childish belief that somehow, even in death, she was still watching over him. He knew there was no such thing as an Afterlife, but he couldn't stop hoping…or maybe it was not so much about childishness, but rather a case of desperation. He was a desperate man.

Desperation could lead to so many different things. Desperation could drive a sane man crazy. He desperately wanted her to come back, to hold him and tell him that this was all just a bad dream. He used his logic as a way to hide from his grief – he convinced himself that this was a part of life, and death itself was inescapable – but underneath, he was conflicted. He was a logical man wishing upon stars and dreaming about hope. He wasn't himself anymore.

_Without her, I'm lost…without stars, people are lost. _Stars showed the way. Stars were the beauties of one's existence – stars were beacons of hope and life. He glanced up at the sky again – the storm clouds were thickening, and the stars were now little more than tiny glimmers of faint light, barely discernible. The rain was falling in earnest now, like it was trying to chase him away from his personal star now – but he refused to budge. The rain wouldn't be able to move him away from what he loved. _People don't stop loving their stars just because they're gone. Stars will always remain behind. Some way, somehow, they survive. Don't they?_

In his memories, in his heart, in his love for her…he could say this confidently, earnestly, miserably – _no one will ever love her the way I did. _He missed her so much that he wasn't himself anymore, and he was aware of that – before she died, he was logical and rigid in his logic, he insisted in reality and was sceptical about metaphysical matters. Now, it was so difficult to prevent the supernatural from encroaching upon his life. Was she, despite her differences, despite her belief in another world and life, the one who kept him sane? Was she the one who kept him logical? Was she the star she always told him to wish upon?

Thunder rumbled, shaking him out of his thoughts. _I can't see the stars anymore…_his fingers, now wet from the rain, shakily traced the name carved onto the headstone. _Miku Hatsune. _He missed her. He missed her and her voice and her shining eyes, filled with stars – he missed the way she laughed, the way she smiled at him, the way she hugged him when he came to her, his voice dead and his eyes empty. She was full of life, and she filled him with life when life left him alone. Now she was dead, he felt dead, he wished he was dead – he wasn't dead.

Fingers still trembling, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone – slowly, hesitantly, he dialled her number, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hi, this is Miku! I can't come to the phone right now, but please leave a message after the beep!" her cheerful voice rang into his ear, and he swallowed again, the tears threatening to overflow – this was the only reason he could continue living, the only reason why he hadn't given up and gone to join her yet. _I don't want you to ever entertain the thought of suicide ever again, okay? _Her worried tone flashed through his memory. _Always live and be happy; suicide would be a waste, when there is so much to live for! Remember, when you're sad, always wish upon a star…_

_Her voicemail is the only way I can hear her voice again…_it was why he paid for her line. He didn't want to be left alone. He didn't want to disappoint her by killing himself – he didn't want to live without her either. His grip on his phone tightened – so long as he had her voice to listen to, he could struggle on for another day. His eyes closed, his fingers lingering over the name on the grave – every single day, he came here to find the only person who ever understood him, who actually cared about whether he lived or died. Every single day, he came here to talk to her, to receive no response. Every single day, he came here with a bunch of her favourite flowers, and tried his hardest to remind himself that he had to keep on living.

He bowed his head, getting up from the ground. His knees were stained with grass and dirt – absently, he brushed them off the dark denim, his eyes always fixed on the headstone. _I wish that you hadn't died…_but it was too late to wish for that now. There were no more shooting stars, and she was gone – she wasn't with the stars, those cold pinpricks of light which she always said were part of Heaven. She was in the cold, cold earth, and she didn't know he was here to see her. She would never know, and he would never be able to tell her otherwise.

_Please don't leave me alone…_it was funny, how she always used to tell him that. And he would always comply. Now that he said it, she wouldn't be able to reciprocate. He really hated that – he wished that he could stay with her again, hugging her so tightly that he could feel her warmth, making him feel secure. He turned away from the grave, knowing he could not possibly stay there forever, even if he wanted to; knowing that he had no choice but to return to an empty home, a shattered family, a night of coldness and loneliness.

Lonely, because she was no longer there to talk to him at night, to sing him to sleep. The little things he missed the most…nowadays, if he wanted to see her again, all he could do was hope that she would appear in his dreams, laughing and smiling. She rarely ever appeared in his dreams, though – occasionally, it made him wonder whether that meant she was angry at him in death, whether she was trying to avoid him. Of course, he knew that was ridiculous – dead people couldn't visit dreams – but desperate people thought up of ridiculous things.

_I love you, Mikuo._

He loved her. She loved him once, but no longer. He still loved her, would love her for the rest of his life, would never stop loving her…would never stop waiting for the day he could join her. _Live out your life, don't ever give up, and just keep looking forward…keep on hoping and wishing. _That was her philosophy in life – and where did it get her, in the end? She was buried in the ground, lifeless and still. Whereas he, the one who gave up on living so often that it frustrated everyone, including himself…he was still alive. _Why? It's unfair…_

She kept saying that if he wished upon a shooting star, his wish would come true. Wishing upon a star…he kept wishing that she would come back to life, that this was all just some horrible nightmare. But his wish never came true. Did that mean she was lying? He didn't want to believe she lied…_she loved me; she never would have lied to me. Would she?_

_Wishes come true if you wish upon a shooting star. If so…Miku, are you still my star?_

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_**Solitaryloner: **__I am done with the first chapter. So there needs to be at least five chapters for this contest thing. And the due date is in…October. That's plenty of time. I think. I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter…to be honest, I'm not quite sure which direction I intend to go, but we'll see about that. See you all in my next update, which would be preferably quite soon._


	2. Chapter 2

Love could be a wonderful thing. She knew that.

But love was a double-edged sword…love could be beautiful and wondrous, but at the same time, it could be hurtful and absolutely horrible. Love could cause great things to happen, but at the same time, love could damn a person. And she knew that love was sly and twisted; she knew that love couldn't be trusted, no matter how sweet, how beguiling, its promises were.

"You've been here for a while," she glanced behind her, at the speaker. A navy haired man settled himself down next to her, his form shimmering and wispy, barely there – just like her own. She looked at her hand, stretching her arm out – instead of pale skin, as she was used to, her ethereal form sparkled with tiny lights. Starlight…it was beautiful, but she did not want this. She didn't want to be as coldly removed from the mortal world as stars were.

"Is there something wrong with that?" she asked in return, her gaze shifting slowly back to the ground, far, far below them. She reached out, swirling her fingertips through the black night – faint glitter fell from her hand, and she knew that from the ground, the glitter would share the same radiance as starlight, floating softly and playfully to the human world…_he _looked up again, the rain pouring into his face. She bit back a sob. But _he _couldn't see the light, because the rain was there, and though she could see him, he could not see her…

"It's not anything wrong. It does concern me, however," gently, he placed his hand over hers. His skin – the starlight which made up their skin – was warm. She closed her eyes, the tears threatening to spill over. She knew the tears would shine brightly, as radiantly as diamonds, and from afar, those tears would simply look like exceptionally bright stars – and, when her tears fell to the ground, humans would simply think that they were shooting stars, falling from the heavens to their realm. And how did she know all that?

Because she had cried, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that…for these few months she had been separated from the human world, she had been crying, and she saw what happened to the tears that flowed. They were no longer liquid. Like the rest of her, they were composed of the heavens and starlight, of radiance and beauty. But she didn't want to have that beauty.

She wanted to be imperfect and weak of flesh again. She wanted to breathe, she wanted to be alive, she wanted so many things – she was young, and she was not ready to leave the realm she was accustomed to. But leave she did, for that was the will of God, and she could not defy it. She knew that the Lord had something in mind for her; He _had _to, she had been taught that nothing happened without a reason. Still, she felt that…she was too young, too unready. She still had so much to do, so much to see, so much to experience…didn't she?

She wished she could be back down there. But she knew that wishing wouldn't work. She thought that wishing upon a shooting star would work…she tried hard to believe that, but she kept wishing upon her tears, and nothing ever happened. She was stuck here, and she would always be stuck here, always separated from him – for _he _was alive, she was not, and she did not want him to fade away just so he could join her. That wouldn't be fair towards him.

_Mikuo…_she stretched her hand out towards the ground. Wispy specks of light flitted around her ghostly hand, alighting playfully on her translucent skin. She was an outline of stars and radiance, and she hated it. She would trade this beautiful, eternal existence simply for another day as a human – simply so she could tell him all the things she wanted to, but didn't have a chance to. One day, just one day, to tell him for one final time, that she loved him.

She loved stars, and she believed in wishes, but it was getting harder and harder to force herself to believe in a future. A conceivable future she wanted to be a part of. When she was one of the stars, one of the heavenly bodies of the skies…a star spirit, one could say. Almost an angel, but not quite – star spirits were embodiments of the nightly skies, beacons of light and radiance to show humans the way. To remind them, perhaps, of a better tomorrow, no matter how bleak their situations might be at that point in time. But, since she was now one of the stars, she knew that wishing upon herself would not work. It would never work.

She wondered what he was saying to himself. She could see, from this distance even, his lips moving faintly – he bowed his head, as though in prayer, his fingers brushing tenderly, almost lovingly against her headstone. He looked so cold and lonely; a single figure huddled up against a grey grave. It made her heart break to see him like this, so torn and broken. She had always known that he loved her…she just never knew that he loved her this much.

"There's nothing to be concerned about," she said quietly, gently withdrawing her hand away from him. "I know you care about me, Kaito," she said delicately, her eyes never leaving the teal haired figure on the ground, "but I know enough to make my own decisions. You need not worry about me," she turned a little, smiling at him. "Thank you, however. I appreciate your concern," absent-mindedly, she reached up, looping a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

He caught her hand, causing her breath to catch. Kaito Shion, a fellow star spirit. Star spirits did not have what humans would consider as _skin,_ but she could see his features as clearly as if he did – navy hair, sharp featured, handsome face, and intense dark blue eyes. She had known him for the two months she had departed the mortal world, but she still did not know the cause of his death. He was a good friend – he guided her along when she first dissolved into stars, unsure and confused about what was going on. She was still uncertain, even now.

"I know you still love him," Kaito said slowly, looking down at the boy on the ground, so very far below. There was a pause as she stared at him, her lips slightly parted in confusion. Those dark blue eyes softened. "But you should also know that I'm willing to wait for you," he whispered, his fingers gently reaching up, tucking her hair securely behind her ear. She didn't know what to say – all she could do was to just stare silently after him as he rose from beside her, walking away from their vantage point. She didn't know how to react. _Kaito…?_

_Wait for you. _Did he expect her to forget Mikuo? To…to just move on, and go on with her never-ending existence as a star spirit? She knew that was the logical move, the step that would make the most sense – after all, he was a human, and she was not. She was no longer the same kind of being he was, and she could _not _reach him, no matter what – they would always be separated…till he died, at the very least. And that would take many years, she hoped. She did not want him to die early just because she missed him terribly.

But how could she possibly forget about Mikuo? She loved him. She had loved him for years, and he her – she could not move on. She was stuck in the past, he was haunting her memories, and every second she spent without him had her lingering miserably in pain. She wanted to die, just to get away from this hurt – and perhaps that would have worked were it not for the fact that she was already dead. She swallowed. It was a painful swallow, and she winced. The rain was falling even more heavily now, and that worried her; the rainclouds were thickening, almost obscuring him from her sight. But she knew that he was still kneeling there.

He was still mourning her. She watched, every single day, in the day and night both, and she knew that he always mourned her. She knew that each night, without fail, he came to her grave in this lonely little cemetery – always bringing the flowers he knew she adored – and placed them next to her headstone. And he would talk to her, as though she was still alive – and it pained her, for she was listening, but he did not know. She didn't miss the look on his face whenever he talked to her headstone – didn't miss the tears trickling down his face.

He was not one to be openly affectionate. He did say 'I love you' – she knew he loved her – but he was not as trusting and carefree as she was. He found it harder to open up, even to her…which was why she had wondered whether he loved her as much as she him. But now, she knew. She knew just how much he cared for her, how much he missed her, how much he regretted not telling her 'I love you' often enough. She knew he wished she was there, just so he could hold her close – so he could hold her tight in his arms, and never let her go.

He wished that he had the time to say goodbye to her. But wishes wouldn't work, especially not for her – not when she was a star. And she couldn't grant her own wishes, could she?

He blamed himself for her death. She wished he wouldn't do that. Her death wasn't his fault – it was because of her own carelessness, her own foolishness…if only she had looked before she stepped out onto the road. If only she hadn't been smiling excitedly at her phone, about to call Mikuo…if only she had looked up from the screen to see the car, coming towards her, its horn blaring; there were so many 'if-onlys', and that was what hurt the most. If only. "You shouldn't blame yourself, Mikuo. It's not your fault. It never was your fault," she whispered, though he could not hear her. She wanted to hug him and reassure him, the way she used to.

She knew it would not work though. She was incorporeal, invisible – her radiance could be seen only in the night sky. The moment she went away from her realm, down towards the human world, her radiance would dim, and she would become invisible. He wouldn't know that she was there. She should know – she had tried. He didn't sense her presence, or at least that was what she thought. Sometimes, just occasionally, it would seem as if…he knew she was there. Could sense her presence, somehow – for he would turn and glance at her, right at her, as though he knew someone was there. Right before he shook his head, sighed, and turned away. _If only there was a way to be visible…so that he could realise I was there…_

She forced herself to stop wishing, when she knew it would be futile, and the concept of 'what-if' would bring her nothing but more pain. She decided to go down to the mortal world, however. Just this once…it was raining heavily now, and she could no longer see him from where she was, above the storm clouds. She wanted to be certain that he didn't stay around in the rain. He would catch a cold, and she didn't want him to fall ill just because he was mourning her. She didn't think she could bear to see him hurt or sick because of her.

She took a deep breath, throwing herself off an ethereal stardust cloud in the sky – she dived down towards the mortal world, her long teal hair streaming out behind her. She hissed a little in pain, the rush of the wind causing the small pinpricks of starlight which made up her being to flicker and extinguish. It was normal, and she knew they would come back when she went back up to the star realm – but it hurt, she could not deny that. It was a pain she was used to, though. She lost track of how many times she had borne the pain of her lights extinguishing, before; it hardly mattered to her, anyway. Mikuo was worth so much more than the pain.

She landed gently on the ground, feeling the grass underneath her bare feet. Though she could feel the grass, she was so light that her weight left no impression on the wet green – as a being made of starlight and radiance, she could feel things, touch them, but those things could not feel her. The rain was falling heavily, and it fell through her, for she was incorporeal, after all. She looked around, blinking through the raindrops – she spotted a flash of teal, and instantly hurried over to the silly boy. Mikuo was still kneeling at her grave, completely drenched, his fingers clutching the edge of the granite tightly. She swallowed.

As always, seeing him like this broke her heart. But what could she do? "Miku…" she could hear him murmuring, despite the deafening loudness of the rain. She moved towards him, her hand stretching out, her starlight gone – her wispy hand landed on his shoulder. He didn't react at all to her touch, and she could not feel the warmth of his body, although she knew that they were touching – she had no true 'skin' to speak of, so she could not feel. A tear slowly slid down her cheek, but like the rest of her, it held no starlight – the tear was wispy and incorporeal, just like she was. "I miss you so much," he whispered, staring at her grave.

"I miss you too, Mikuo!" she cried out, wrapping her arms around his waist – but still, he did not react, and she was not surprised by that. She leant her head against his back, a familiar gesture which she could no longer feel – she knew he was trembling, his body shivering a little as he grieved. It had been two months. She had expected him to forget, to move on by now – but he didn't. He hadn't. He loved her so much that he was stuck in the past, just like she was. He was a living boy who wanted to die. She was a dead girl who wanted to forget.

But neither one of them could do what they wanted to. Neither one of them could move on or forget the other, not really, no matter how much it hurt – because they loved so much. Love was both a blessing and a curse…it brought both bliss and misery. And, as she knelt on the muddy grass, her arms looped around Mikuo, she never thought love could be any more of a curse than it was, now. "You know," Mikuo murmured, his gaze still fixed on the headstone, "you always told me that if I wished on a shooting star, my wish would come true. Why isn't it coming true, then? Why aren't you coming back to me? Why aren't you here anymore…?"

"No, I'm here, look at me!" she tried to shake him, but he couldn't feel anything, and she didn't know what to do. He was crying, she was crying… "Mikuo, go home, you're going to fall ill," she whispered. It was futile, she knew – he couldn't hear her, after all. Her voice was as ghostly and ethereal as the rest of her was. "It hurts me to see you suffering so much. Don't do this to yourself…please?" He couldn't hear her. It was torture, coming down to see him, knowing he couldn't hear or feel her at all. Knowing that he had no idea she was still there, still by his side. If only there was a way for her to come back to life, even for just a while. If only she had just one more day, one more hour…something. Anything.

"I should go home," the teal haired boy whispered faintly, his fingers tightening further around the edge of her headstone. She sighed in relief – at least he wasn't going to stay here any longer. The longer he stayed, the more he would suffer, in both a physical and mental sense. "I'll visit you tomorrow, Miku. I love you," his voice broke on the last word, and she had to swallow – he sounded so lost, so lonely. Slowly, he staggered up from where he was kneeling, turning away from the grave; she caught a glimpse of his emerald eyes, and they were so _haunted_. He looked miserable. And his suffering made her suffer as well.

_Miku! Come back, Len is passing by again, and you know what that angel is like about the stars visiting the mortals. _Kaito's voice rang through her mind, causing her to jolt up, her green eyes widening slightly – the star spirits could communicate telepathically with each other, the same way stars in the night sky were all linked by the heavenly bodies and stardust. She gave Mikuo a lingering look – he was walking away from her grave now, his shoulders hunched over, his head bowed. His footsteps were slow and reluctant, but he was leaving.

Once she was certain that he wouldn't change his mind and spend the night next to her resting spot – it had happened before several times, and that always worried her – she closed her eyes, springing lightly back up into the sky. The rain was still pouring, though it was slightly less heavy now, and the winds carried her wispy form back up towards the heavens. Her eyes remained closed, even as she felt her starlight coming back to her – it was a wonderful feeling, to have her lights lit up, but the misery…no, she couldn't get over that. _Why torture yourself like that? He's alive, and you're not…isn't it easier to just move on? _This thought wasn't something Kaito sent her. This was something she thought of, herself.

Yes, it would be less heart-breaking if she chose to move on – but how could she? She loved him. And he loved her. Moving on would be more painful than loving. It was silly of her to think of such a thing, but she couldn't help her feelings, nor could she lie to herself. She had loved him for years, ever since they were little children – it was the kind of love that couldn't be forgotten, not ever. In fact, she thought he was her soul-mate; he was her other half, the one who was part of her soul. The one she could not imagine ever living without.

She looked up at the sprawl of stars that covered the night sky – the stars, her people. The spirits of the sky. She wasn't supposed to leave her realm to talk to humans, she knew; no doubt, Len would lecture her about leaving her post in the sky again. But she missed Mikuo so much. She couldn't even communicate with him in any way…she couldn't do anything to help ease his pain. Would it really hurt to go down and watch over him, just for a while?

She was Miku Hatsune, and she left the world with many things still unsaid, still undone. She wished she could speak to Mikuo again, just one final time – but what use was wishing upon stars, when she now happened to be one of them herself?


End file.
